


Obeshchaniye

by hockeyallthehockey



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hockey, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeyallthehockey/pseuds/hockeyallthehockey
Summary: For the Sid/Geno Fluff Fest prompt "Injury/Illness" and the prompt list #54 (I can't stand the thought of losing you).Geno takes a bad hit on the ice. Sid can't stand it.(I suck at summaries, okay, I do.)





	Obeshchaniye

Sound filtered back in slowly, snatches of conversation, machines beeping and humming, footsteps. He was floating, felt like he was wrapped up in softness, which seemed oddly _wrong_ , but it was too comfortable where he was, and he didn’t want it to change. He thought he heard his name, and he knew that voice, he _knew_ it, but the sounds were fading again…

The next time he came back to himself, he wasn’t quite wrapped up in so much softness. Nothing hurt, but it _would_ , if he moved. He tried to marshal his thoughts, but he couldn’t remember what had happened, where he was, why. 

Sounds filtered in again, and this time it was mostly a voice, a familiar voice, soft and sad near his ear, and he tried to focus on what the voice was saying. It took him a little more effort than he liked to translate the words in his head.

“…weren’t moving, and I’ve never been that scared in my life. Tanger hit Niskanen so hard he knocked _him_ out, and I think Ovi wanted to hit him, too. They thought you’d broken your neck at first, and you were bleeding all over the damn place, and… fuck, Geno, you weren’t _moving_ , and I didn’t know if you were _breathing_ , and I can’t, I… I can’t stand the thought of losing you, I just can’t.”

He tried to open his eyes, and it was harder than it should have been, and then he couldn’t focus, not right away, but after a few minutes, he could see the dark mess of Sid’s curly hair. He wanted to touch it, but he couldn’t move his arm, and when he tried to make a frustrated sound, he couldn’t do that, either.

He must’ve made some noise, because Sid’s head came up, eyes wide. “Geno? Oh my God, you’re awake, okay, don’t move, don’t try to talk, I’ll get the doctor, _fuck_ , just, just stay there.”

He didn’t see Sidney again until the next day - between the rush of doctors and nurses, the removal of some tubes (and wasn’t _that_ unpleasant), and seeing his parents, he was asleep again before Sidney came back. He woke a few more times, and there was always someone there, his mother, his father, his brother, Tanger, but not Sidney.

By the next afternoon, he was able to stay awake for more than ten minutes at a time, but he was also hurting more than he had been, both due to the careful reduction of meds. He woke slowly, again to the sound of Sidney’s voice, but this time he was… speaking Russian? Zhenya blinked his eyes open, focused slowly on the figure reading by dim lamplight beside the bed. The book was one Zhenya had been reading before, and Sid was carefully picking his way from word to word as he read.

“Obeshchaniye,” he rasped, correcting Sid’s pronunciation, and like yesterday, Sid’s head came up, eyes wide.

“Geno? Hey.” He put the book aside and leaned closer, his voice carefully soft and his movements slow. “How are you feeling? D'you hurt anywhere?”

“Bolit vezde,” he managed, his voice grating over the words.

Sid winced and nodded. “Yeah, okay, that was a stupid question. D'you want some water?”

A few sips of cool water did wonders for his throat, and Sid turned off the little lamp to spare his eyes, and therefore his head. “What happened?”

“Fucking Niskanen,” Sid bit out, and then puffed out a breath and shook his head. “He cross-checked the back of your neck, and you took a header into the boards. Broke your nose again.” He traced a light fingertip down said broken nose, carefully. “Split your lip. Blood everywhere. And you were _out_ , unconscious, not moving. _Fuck_ , Geno, I’ve never been so _fucking_ scared.”

“Don’t remember,” Zhenya told him. “Remember, uh… fistbump before game?”

Sid nodded, and reached to curl his fingers with Zhenya’s carefully. “Yeah, they said short-term memory loss is pretty normal. And you have a concussion, for sure.”

Zhenya tightened his fingers around Sid’s. “Sorry for scare you, Sidka.”

Sid gave a wet-sounding laugh. “Oh my God, it’s so not your fault. Jesus. I just, when you went down, and you didn’t move, and I… I’m just, I’m really glad you’re gonna be okay.”

Zhenya managed a half-smile, though it pulled at the stitches in his split lip. “Not lose me, Sid. Not going anywhere. Is like I’m tell reporters. I’m stay here, play hockey with Sid. Lots of hockey left.” 

Sid smiled, then exhaled slowly and bent forward to press his lips to Zhenya’s brow. “Yeah, lots of hockey left, lyubov’. Lots of life left.”

–

Translations (per google translate):  
Obeshchaniye - promise  
Bolit vezde - hurts everywhere  
lyubov’ - love

**Author's Note:**

> Come share the hockey feels with me on tumblr at [HockeyAllTheHockey](https://hockeyallthehockey.tumblr.com/)


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